Haze
by xImagineThatx
Summary: We fight our entire lives trying to clear the haze that blinds our path; always searching for clarity. But what happens when you're thrown into an even deeper fog? One that threatens your very being? For the tributes of the 100th Hunger Games, this fog is very real and threatens to swallow all of them whole. SYOT: CLOSED
1. Prologue

**_H_a_z_e**

**The 100th Hunger Games SYOT**

All spots are filled up and the story has officially begun! Enjoy.

* * *

**_P_ro_l_og_u_e**

**Dean Halloway, Dictrict 7- Victor of the 94th Hunger Games**

Six years. Has it really been so long? I still remember everything so vividly, as if the events had been etched permanently into my memories. That District 2 boy running at me with a knife through the grasslands of our arena, the District 6 girl being torn apart by those lion mutts, and then there's the worst of them all. Watching my own hands swing an axe into the head of that Dictrict 4 boy. The time that has passed since then seems so surreal, almost as if I have just been dreaming this whole time. Or maybe it wasn't dreaming. Dreams are good, these were more of nightmares.

When they called my home in the Victor Village of District 7, I was told that I had been chosen as a mentor for this year's games. It wasn't until I arrived at the Capitol that I realized this year was a Quarter Quell. The revelation had left me with both a sense of dread and curiosity.

Now, alone in the small but luxurious room that I had been given overlooking the Capitol's City Circle, I rise to my feet and smooth out the tan slacks that I'm wearing. President Leer will be annoucing the Quarter Quell in just a few moments. It is playing on the large TV in the center of my room, but I can see the whole thing first hand from my window.

Crossing the room, I can hear our country's anthem playing from the TV. I try to tune it out as I place my hands on the enormous glass windows that make up an entire wall of the room. It is almost frightening to stand so close to the edge, but my mind quickly shuts out the fear as it always has.

Scanning the over-crowded City Circle, I am easily able to spot where the President is moving across the stage toward a podium. He is a thin, gangly man with a shiny, bald head and sharp grey eyes. Even from here, several stories in the sky, his head seems to reflect the sunlight.

The Capitol citizens are estatic; cheering and squeezing together in front of the stage until the whole City Circle just looks like a blob of moving colors. I blink and focus on the President as he clears his throat and taps the microphone to get everyone's attention.

"Welcome to the announcement of the fourth Quarter Quell," he begins once the Capitol people have quieted down. His calm and controlled voice floods from the TV behind me, but I'm still staring out the window. My eyes linger on the small wooden box that is positioned on the podium in front of him. It is only a speck from where I'm standing, but I know that it holds all of the Quarter Quell twists within in.

"On the 25th aniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that their children were dying because of their choice to initiate violence, every District was made to hold and election and vote on the tributes who would represent it. On the 50th aniversary..." President Leer continues his speech, but my mind seems to automatically tune him out as he reminds us of the 50th and 75th games and the rebellion that came with it. He regards the rebellion as 'small', nothing but a riot that was quickly put to rest. I hadn't even been born at the time and no one ever seemed to talk about it these days, so I could only believe what he said.

My attention snaps back into focus when President Leer reaches for the small box on the podium and opens it carefully. His fingers sift through the yellow cards within it before swiftly plucking the correct one and holding it tenderly in his finger tips. The air is tense and everyone is silent. I can even hear the card being opened from the TV's speakers.

"And now, on the 100th aniversary, as a reminder to the rebels that fighting amongst eachother can only lead to demise, the tributes for this year's games will be put into groups of three so that they must learn to work together to survive," the President announces clearly.

The silence only lasts a moment longer before the Capitol people erupt in cheers of excitement.

"Groups," I mumur thoughtfully, my breath causing a spot on the window to fog up. I stare intently at the spot, idly noting how similar it is to my thoughts. Both the window and my mind are lost in a haze; waiting for some kind of miracle to clear it away.

* * *

**_Q_uarter _Q_uell _D_etails-**

The tributes will be placed randomly into groups of three the day before training begins, so they will have time to meet eachother/strategize/etc. Before the games, they will be injected with a substance that 'ties' them to their groups.  
**Effects-** If the partners start to stray away from eachother, they will feel a sharp pain in their heads. The further they are from eachother, the more they hurt until their body shuts down for good. If one partner dies, but two remain, they are safe. However, if only two remain and one dies, the remaining partner's body begins to shut down. The partners will also feel hints of eachothers' pain. For example, if one partner gets stabbed in the shoulder, the other two will feel pain in the same spot, but not as severe.


	2. Tribute List

**_~T_ri_b_ut_e_ _L_i_s_t-~**

**District 1**- Luxury

Female: Ecstasy Mason (16) _sc148_

Male: Fame Lunar (17) _sc148_

**District 2-** Masonry/Stonework

Female: Meg Starks (17) _MusicOfTheNight618_

Male: Luster Masters (18) _MusicOfTheNight618_

**District 3-** Electronics

Female: Carmen Calder (18) _PeenissandClato_

Male: Maxwell "Max" Jones (18) _PeenissandClato_

**District 4-** Fishing

Female: Monique Steel (15) _BrownEyedPerfection_

Male: Trestian Finite (15) _Dark Demigod_

**District 5**- Power

Female: Calico Trell (13) _Keybladeauraofpie_

Male: Swanky Jones (18) _littlechurchboy22_

**District 6**- Transportation

Female: Astaira Mercer (13) _cc4s_

Male: Aurelius Argus (17) _DragonFan1512_

**District 7-** Lumber

Female: Astrid Hess (18) _Anarchy Girl_

Male: Linden Taylor (18) _MidnightRaven323_

**District 8-** Textiles

Female: Paisley Brookins (18) _Calamity Heart_

Male: Axel Tarra (15) _The world is a cruel place_

**District 9-** Grain

Female: Fellen Arkarian (16) _Abby Mad_

Male: Jackob "Jack" Creast (18) _Stalking Dream_

**District 10-** Livestock

Female: Taryn Marquez (14) _Buttons301_

Male: Hunter Rhodes (17) _Queen of the Type Writers_

**District 11-** Agriculture

Female: Amber Grey (15) _Calamity Heart_

Male: Jensen Sickle (17) _cc4s_

**District 12**- Coal Mining

Female: Rika Palavine (12) _Autumn Black 74_

Male: Rix Lerien (12) _Abby Mad_


	3. Reaping Day

**_R_ea_p_in_g_ _D_a_y_**

**District 3  
**

**Carmen Calder (18)- District 3**

_Tell him_.

My conscience repeats the words for what seems like the millionth time today. It's as if someone is sitting on my shoulder and screaming urgently into my ear: _Tell him!_

But how can I? On Reaping Day, no less. The answer is obvious: lie. I'm an expert at it, always have been; it just comes naturally. But to lie to Max would be unfair. Even not saying anything at all has left a severe, aching pain in my gut. My head feels as if it is about to explode if I don't tell him soon.

"Carmen? You sure you're okay?"

I blink several times and allow my gaze to focus on Max. He is standing casually at the bottom of the front steps of our Community Home with a look of concern shadowing his sea blue eyes. He shifts his feet when I don't respond right away, as if deciding whether or not to climb back up the steps and physically shake me out of my daze.

Swallowing back the truth, I nod and make a slow decent down the few stairs that lead onto the main sidewalk, "Of course I'm okay," I reply easily, smiling as I reach the last step and look up at him.

Max eyes me skeptically, making it obvious that he knows I'm hiding something. But, to my relief, he simply smiles and wraps a strong arm around my shoulders. He pulls me firmly against his side and I am instantly comforted by the gesture and his radiating warmth.

We begin to walk in sync away from the Community Home and, despite the fact that we are on our way to the Reapings, I feel strangely content. I could always just tell him tomorrow, after the stress of Reaping Day has subsided. That way, he may even see the situation as a good thing; a blessing.

I notice a few of our friends ahead of us, walking down the stark white sidewalk of District 3 toward the Justice Building. They are talking casually but look unusually stiff and nervous at the same time. I guess that's what Reaping Day does to a person. But, with Max's arm over my shoulder, I feel as if nothing could hurt me. Not even my name being drawn out of that bowl.

"Yuri says he's going to start looking for work tomorrow," Max mentions as we turn onto a new road, "I'm going to go with him, maybe try to get a job on the assembly line. Since it's our last Reaping, we can't stay at the Community Home any more. I figured I could get enough money for us to buy a place to live," he says before looking down at me expectantly. He seems to be waiting for my reaction and it takes me a minute to realize that he's unsure of whether I want to stay with him once we leave the orphanage.

I don't blame him for being uncertain. He and I are no strangers to abandonment. Both of our parents had left us at the Community Home as children and simply forgot about us. We grew up together, told eachother things we'd never told anyone else, and eventually, we fell in love.

"That sounds perfect, Max. I'll come with you. I can work too, you know," I reply with a wide smile.

Max's blue eyes instantly light up; a rare sight that only I get the pleasure to see. He isn't the most expressive person, and I'm the only one that he seems to ever show his emotions to, or so I've heard from our friends. He laughs quietly as we step off of the sidewalk and cross the street, "I know you can work, I just wanted to let you make the decision," he explains.

I can see the Justice Building now, standing tall and grey against the blue sky. It is only about a block away and people are swarming the area in front of it, preparing for the Reaping like a bunch of ants preparing for a storm. I can feel myself tensing up, bracing myself for the onslaught of nerves that are sure to come once we reach the Justice Building.

Max reaches for my hand and squeezes it lightly; a simple and reassuring gesture. But this tiny movement, something he's done a million times, something so ordinary, suddenly sends me over the edge. Guilt hits me in the gut like a train at full speed. My head pounds and I can no longer feel my legs as they continue forwardly mindlessly. All I can hear...all I can think are those two simple words: _Tell him!_

"Max," I say abruptly, stopping in my tracks.

He comes to a surprised halt and turns to face me, releasing my hand in the process. The air feels cold without him and I suddenly notice how close we are to the Justice Building. The familiar lines of nervous teenagers are only few yards away from where we stand. I could easily tell him 'Nevermind' and take my place amongst the other 18 year old girls, but I can't turn back now.

"What?" he asks, furrowing his dark eyebrows.

"Max, I-I'm..." I pause to swallow back any hesitation. The pressure in my chest is unbearable and I need to let the truth out before it suffocates me, "I'm pregnant, Max," I manage, letting the words spill freely from my lips.

Max doesn't waver. He remains still, expression unchanging. If it weren't for the look in his eyes, I would assume he hadn't heard me. As I wait in silence for him to respond, I find myself staring at a stray lock of his dark brown hair as it blows in the breeze against his forehead. I feel the urge to reach out and smooth it to the side, but Max speaks before I get the chance.

"You're sure?" he asks calmly.

I nod, still not meeting his gaze. His messy hair is so much easier to look at.

"Carmen," he says. When I don't respond, he repeats himself firmly, "Carmen, look at me,"

I do. My eyes lock with his and relief immediately sweeps over me, soothing my aching head. Beneath the clouds of worry and uncertainty, there is happiness in his eyes. Warmth fills the fear in my gut and I throw my arms around him, resting my head against his chest with my eyes squeezed shut.

He wraps his arms around me slowly and I can feel his breath against my ear, "You thought I'd leave you on your own, just like that," he doesn't say it like a question so I don't respond, "Don't doubt me, Carmen. I said I loved you, and I meant it," he whispers.

"Get to your places, you two. The Reaping will begin in less than five minutes," a demanding voice calls from nearby.

I open my eyes to find a Peacekeeper staring us down through narrowed eyes, "Now," he adds firmly.

Releasing Max is almost painful, but I have to. They would force us otherwise, "I'll see you soon," I murmur to him as I start to turn toward the girl's area. Before I can even take another step, I feel Max's hand on my shoulder, pulling me back to him. Without a word, he kisses me and, even with the Peacekeeper watching us and the Reaping about to take place, I feel safe again. Because I know that Max would never abandon me.

* * *

**Maxwell "Max" Jones (18)- District 3**

_Could I be a father?_ The thought is terrifying, but it is the only thing on my mind as I make my way through the crowd of boys to the 18 year olds' section. _What if I turn out like my father?_

Cringing, I shake the awful notion away and scan the crowd. Finding Yuri is easy enough, even in the massive crowd of anxious teenagers. His shaggy blonde hair is glinting in the sun as I make my way toward him, "Yuri!" I call when I'm only a few yards away.

He turns and nods in greeting as I shoulder my way past a few stray 14 year olds and stop beside him. Straightening my shirt and fidgeting with the collar, I turn my attention absentmindedly to the stage. The mayor of District 3 has already given his annual speech and introduced the escort: a plump woman with bright, yellow hair. I try to focus on her words as she chatters on and on, but my mind refuses to cooperate. Everything is just noise and colors blended together into a blob of mass confusion.

"You look like you've just seen a ghost," Yuri comments, forcing me back to reality. His green eyes are trained on me and he has one eyebrow raised. He's right, I must look like a wreck with all the fidgeting I'm doing.

Shrugging his words off, I manage to straighten up and release the hem of my shirt, "I'm fine," I reply, keeping my eyes on the escort. There's no way I can tell Yuri about Carmen. Not yet, anyway. Especially not in the middle of the Reaping.

"Yeah, yeah, you're always fine," Yuri mutters, leaving me alone. He knows me well enough to realize when I need space.

"Without further ado, let's get this Reaping started!" the escort shrieks, raising her hands enthusiastically into the air, "I think we'll even throw in a twist and go with the boys first this year. It is the Quarter Quell after all," she giggles and waddles her way over to the boys bowl.

I find myself straining to locate Carmen amongst the girls' section even as the escort dips her pudgy hand into the bowl. All I want to do right now is find her and start planning for this baby. Just this morning I was worrying about providing for Carmen, and now there is a baby on the way. Responsibility is a strange feeling; one I'm not used to. I've always just fended for myself.

"Maxwell Jones!"

It's an annoying shriek, like one of the younger girls at the Community Home screaming in my ear. In fact, for a long moment, I let myself believe that it was some harmless ten year old girl. But, as the seconds tick by and Yuri turns to stare at me, reality hits hard. It was the escort. Calling my name.

Shock is a strange sensation. My mind finally goes blank and all of the confusing colors from before turn dull and lifeless. I shift my feet slightly, as if to make sure I can walk, before taking a step toward the stage. All of the kids surrounding me step back to create a path and I find myself walking easily past them. When my feet hit the stage, I don't feel the impact. It's as if I've gone numb. My legs seem to have a mind of their own as they carry me across the stage toward the escort.

I eventually stop beside the grinning woman and find myself staring at her strangely shaped hair as she says something to me. It must not have been important, because she quickly moves on, heading for the girl's bowl now.

Hesitant, I cast my gaze into the crowd of girls in search of Carmen. I'm not really sure I want to see the expression on her face. I'm not sure I could take it. But I do find her...and the look on her face is not one of sadness or defeat like I expected.

Our gazes lock and I see fierce determination in her eyes.

_No._

"Lyra Evans!" the escort announces. There is a brief moment of silence as the girl gets singled out among the crowd. She is about to step forward when a new voice slices through the air.

"I volunteer!"

Everyone turns in surprise, their eyes landing on Carmen as she strides toward the stage. Anger boils within me and I glare at her as she steps onto the stage and moves confidently toward me and the escort.

"How wonderful! A volunteer!" the escort beams, obviously happy with the results, "What's your name?"

Carmen leans toward the microphone, her long, brown ponytail slipping over one shoulder, "Carmen Calder,"

I narrow my eyes slightly, feeling the sudden urge to scream at her. _How stupid could she be? Did she think going into the Hunger Games pregnant was a good idea?_

Carmen doesn't even look at me as the escort rambles on about the odds being in our favor, but I keep my glare stubbornly trained on her.

"Shake hands you two," the escort says suddenly, gesturing to the both of us.

Carmen finally turns in my direction, but purposely doesn't make eye contact with me. Instead, her soft brown eyes are focused on my hair blowing in the breeze. She always does this when she's nervous.

She extends a hand and I grasp it, squeezing rather tightly to get my point across. She has to know how horrifying this is for me. Couldn't she have just let me go?

We begin to head into the Justice Building with the Peacekeepers nipping at our heels. Carmen still refuses to look at me and it's driving me crazy. As we enter the building, I reach out and grab her wrist, forcing her to meet my gaze, "Why?" I demand, desperate to know. Desperate for a reason.

Carmen's eyes are full of tears threatening to spill, but she somehow manages to glare at me, "You thought I'd leave you on your own, just like that?" she says, fighting to keep her voice steady.

Before I can respond, a Peacekeeper grips my arm and pulls me away from her, directing me toward an empty room. I fight the urge to slam my fist into the wall as I'm pushed into the room and left on my own.

_You thought I'd leave you on your own, just like that? _I knew the words sounded familiar. They are the same words I spoke to her right before the Reaping.

* * *

**Whew, that turned out longer than I expected. So what do you think? Let me know in a review! (P.S. Reviewing keeps your tribute alive)  
**

**Also, before you go asking me why I started with District 3 Reapings, here's the reason:  
I will be doing 13 chapters before the Games begin; one featuring each District. For example... The next chapter will be the Goodbyes featuring District_. And the next will be Train Rides featuring District _. The interviews, however, will be in my character from the Prologue's POV. This will move the story along much faster, which means we will get to the Games faster. I would never finish the story if I did Reapings for every District... If you have any questions/suggestions, PM me!  
**


	4. Goodbyes

_**G**_**o**_**od**_**b**_**y**_**e**_**s**_

**District 8**

**Axel Tarra (15)- District 8**

Silence...I hate silence. At a time like this, I wish my gang would show up and fill the empty air with mindless chattering and laughter. I want the twins to bicker about something pointless, while little Vince watches quietly. I want Zane to tell them to shut up and smack them over the head. Anything to get rid of the horrid silence in this overly decorated room.

After the Reaping took place, those damn Peacekeepers led me straight into this torture chamber; better known as the Justice Building. Some may find the silk furniture and shiny decor appealing, but it makes me feel uncomfortable. It's almost as if the little glass statue across the room is judging me and my worn out clothes.

My friends are supposed be here at any moment to say their goodbyes, but as the enormous, golden clock mounted on the far wall ticks on and on, I begin to feel antsy. I pace around the room, watching the ground as my dirty sneakers scuff up the perfectly clean white carpet. When I reach the far end of the room where the statue is sitting smugly atop a shelf, I frown and pick it up, weighing it in my hand. It's probably worth a a lot. On any other given day, I would've stuffed it in my pocket and walked straight out of here. But it isn't just any other day.

Dropping it carelessly back on the shelf, I turn and trudge slowly toward the door, debating whether or not I should open it. With a shrug, I finally reach out and twist the handle, cracking it open just enough to get a peek outside. Almost immediately, a Peacekeeper swivels around and slams his palm against the other side of the door. I jump back quickly as the door slams in my face, narrowly missing my nose, "What the hell, man?" I yell hitting a fist against the thick wood.

"You are not to leave this room until your visiting time is up," the Peacekeeper replies calmly, as if reciting a poem.

"Well, my buddies aren't here yet, so I'd like to make sure they're coming," I say, mimicking his tone of voice and snickering to myself.

I wait for a response but the Peacekeeper remains silent, "Ughhh..." I groan dramatically, making sure he can hear me as I lean heavily with my back against the door.

Then, almost as if on cue, the door swings open and find myself stumbling backwards into the hallway. Just before I hit the ground, two sets of arms hook under my armpits and hoist me back onto my feet.

"Careful there, Axel, we wouldn't want you breaking your neck right before the Games," a familiar voice taunts as I regain my balance and turn to face my visitors with a grin. The voice belongs to Darren; twin number one. His identical brother, Kase, is standing beside him, grinning from ear to ear as if watching me fall is the best thing that's happened all day. Behind them is Vince, who looks like he's been crying for quite a while, and Zane with a stony expression upon his face.

"Everyone back in the room," the Peacekeeper demands, waving his arms until we all start to shuffle back into the torture chamber. As soon as little Vince's feet are through the door, the Peacekeeper slams it shut. To my relief, the suffocating silence from before is immediately filled.

"Good thing I caught you. You would've looked like an idiot landing on your ass before you even left the District," Darren comments, smirking as his eyes take in all of the strange items around the room.

Kase frowns and shakes the shaggy red hair from his eyes, "What are you talking about? I caught him,"

Darren shoots Kase a challenging look, "Yeah, right,"

And just like that, the twins begin their usual bickering, leaving me with the sullen company of Zane and Vince. They both stare at me for a long moment and I fight the urge to crack a joke to break the tension. It would probably be inappropriate for the situation.

Then, without a word, Vince hurries forward and wraps his arms around me, "Don't go," he pleads quietly.

That's when I'm hit with a rather unpleasant realization. I'm going into the Hunger Games. It hadn't really bothered me when my name was called; in fact, I'd basically shrugged it off and strode casually onto stage. But seeing Vince like this reminds me that I might be dead in a few weeks time.

"I have to, man," I say as he releases me from the hug and looks up at me through hazel eyes rimmed in tears.

"It's not fair," he mutters, looking down at his dirty, old sneakers that look out of place against the spotless white carpet we're standing on.

I reach out and ruffle his blonde hair like I've always done, "Don't worry about me, Vince. You know I've always wanted to be on TV anyway," I tell him light-heartedly. It's partially true...I've always wanted to be on one of those Capitol talkshows. But the Hunger Games? Maybe not.

Vince shakes his head slightly, as if to let me know that he isn't going to fall for my lame consolations.

"You two are acting like you don't even have a chance," Zane says suddenly, voice harsh. I look up to find him standing with his arms crossed and eyes narrowed at me, "You've given up before it's even begun,"

"I haven't giv-"

"You're not weak, Axel," Zane interrupts before I even have a chance to argue, "You may play around like a five year old most of the time, and you may be one of the laziest people I've ever met, but I know you. I know what you've been through and I know that it's made you strong,"

I frown at him, even though I know he's right. I've been through some terrible things in my fifteen years- things that broke me physically and mentally. But, like a broken bone, I'd healed and become even stronger than before. I can't give up, even if my chances of winning are slim to none. Zane is always right, like a wise big brother to the four of us. I still remember every detail of the day we met two years ago...

_~ "Hey, you lost kid?" he'd called to me as I trudged through the pouring rain one night. He and the other boys had been huddled under a small awning, waiting out the storm. I had simply stopped and stared at them, unsure of whether I could trust the strange street kids- or anyone for that matter. _

_"You hungry?" he had asked, holding out a piece of bread. My stomach had ached and growled painfully at the sight of fresh food; I couldn't resist, so I nodded. Smiling kindly, Zane had walked straight out into the rain and offered me the bread, which I took immediately. Then, without any further questioning, he had led me under the awning and accepted me as a brother. Just like that. ~  
_

"I haven't given up," I say firmly, "And I won't give up, okay? If anything, I owe it to you guys not to,"

Zane looks like he wants to say more, but stops himself. Instead, he extends a hand to me, which I shake. It's a goodbye gesture and I find myself wondering if this is the last time I'll see the boy who saved me- who gave me a family.

For a second, he looks like he's going to simply release my hand and tell the others that it's time to go, which is what I expect him to do. What I don't expect is for him to pull me into a tight embrace- which is exactly what he does.

"If anything, give those Capitol people a piece of your mind, you hear?" he says, voice low next to my ear. I swear I can hear tears hiding in his voice. I've never seen Zane cry, or even come close to crying for that matter, and I honestly don't want to see it. It would force me to face reality.

All I am able to do is nod.

Finally, he releases me and takes a step back. To my relief, he is not crying; in fact, he looks perfectly calm and under control, "It's time to go," he tells the others, shoving his hands into his pockets. Good...that's the Zane I know.

The twins, who had finally stopped fighting, approach me with wide grins. It always amazes me how easily they get over their heated arguments. Kase slaps me on the shoulder good naturedly, "Good luck, bro," he says.

"When you come back, I'll be expecting my own room in the Victor Village," Darren adds, rubbing his fist into my shaggy black hair.

I shove him away, but can't help but smile, "You'd ruin the place in two hours," I taunt.

Darren shrugs, not denying the truth. They couldn't live in a normal house if they tried. We are all so used to living on the streets that it has become natural for us. We don't consider it a bad life; we're happy on our own. It's better that way.

"Time's up," the Peacekeeper's stern voice startles me and I notice him standing with several other guards at the doorway. The sight of their shiny uniforms reminds me of something just as the boys begin to head for the door.

"Wait!" I call, hurrying toward the back of the room. I snag the glass statue off of its place on the shelf and jog back to the front of the room where the guards are busy shoving Zane forcefully out of the room. While they are distracted, I manage to get Vince's attention with a flash of my wide grin.

He looks up at me curiously through puffy, red eyes and I swiftly toss him the statue. Vince instinctively reaches out and catches it, taking a moment to examine the shiny decoration carefully before looking back up at me.

"Make sure you guys get something good to eat tonight," I tell him with a wink.

Vince grins knowingly from ear to ear before shoving the statue into his shirt and scurrying toward the door. The last thing I see are his tattered, blue sneakers before the door is slammed shut and I am left in silence.

* * *

**Paisley Brookins (18)- District 8**

All good things come to an end. Some people don't believe that this is true, but I do. I know it's true. Just when things were starting to go right in my life, everything decided to veer to the left- straight off of a cliff. That cliff being the Hunger Games.

Sighing, I lift my face from my palms and brush my brown hair to the sides. I have to straighten myself out before my visitors arrive. They need to see that I'm strong; that I can do this.

My fists clench almost involuntarily and I take a moment to examine the shiny ring on my left hand as it glints in the light. It is dazzling and takes my breath away for the millionth time. I'll never get used to the feeling of being engaged, especially to Scott. Scott Panjack...Victor of the 97th Hunger Games.

I quickly bite my lip to stop the sudden urge to cry. Franklin, my timid little brother, _cannot _and_ will not _see me crying. Pressing my hands into the velvet couch beneath me, I slowly rise to my feet and stare at the door. Any minute they will be here and I plan on using every second of our time together. It may be the last time I ever see my baby brother.

The seconds tick by and I swear I can hear yelling down the hall followed by the slamming of doors and laughter. I tap my fingers nervously against my leg and try to focus on what I'm going to say to everyone. How can I handle telling Franklin goodbye? I've basically raised him, especially after my mother passed away last year. We were on our own until Scott proposed and offered to let the both of us live in his house in Victor Village with his older sister. I had felt so blessed to have him at that moment- like nothing could ever go wrong. Then again, all good things come to an end.

"Paisley?"

I whip around at the sound of Franklin's trembling voice behind me. He is standing in the doorway and watching me through teary, grey eyes. I swear I can seem him shaking from where I stand. Behind him is Sonia, Scott's sister. She has a careful hand placed on my little brother's shoulder as she stares at me sympathetically.

Without another word, Franklin charges forward and envelopes me in a tight hug, wrapping his small arms around my waist, "Paisley, you can't leave me, I-I can't, I can't lose y-you," he sobs into my dress and I hold him tight until he begins to calm down.

"Franklin, you'll never lose me," I murmur, stroking his soft brown hair back, "I'll always be with you, you know that,"

He sniffles as he pulls back to look at me, "Scott has to go with you, too," he whispers.

I frown slightly, but continue to run my hand over his head comfortingly. I had almost forgot that Scott was mentoring this year; that he will be coming with me to the Capitol. It should comfort me, but it only makes the urge to cry return. It will only prolong the inevitable; me having to leave him.

"Sonia will be here to take care of you," I tell him, looking up at Sonia who has approached us slowly and is standing quietly behind Franklin.

She nods, attempting to smile and fight tears at the same time, "Of course," she says, making me forever grateful to her.

"Where's Scott?" I ask, my voice almost choking on his name.

Sonia sighs, "He started arguing with the escort again and told us to go ahead. He even tried to get to the mayor, I think. I just hope he doesn't try to hit anyone again," she pauses and I can see how much this is affecting her, "He's devasted,"

I nod once, remembering the moment my name was called...

_~ "Paisley Brookins!" the peppy male escort had announced. I was frozen with horror and had to force myself not to cry as I moved toward the stage. Scott, who was already on stage since he was this years' mentor, had risen from his seat and started yelling at the escort. I'd never seen him so angry. _

_"That's a mistake!" he had yelled, waving his fist in the air as he confronted the escort. He was prepared to hit the scrawny man in his blind rage as I hurried on stage._

_"Stop it Scott!" I had screamed at him, causing him to freeze and drop his fist. He looked shocked, like he hadn't expected me to be the one to stop him. I felt bad doing so, but he would thank me later. ~  
_

"But Scott will protect you, right?" Franklin says hopefully, regaining my attention, "He can train you, and- and you can win, too. Just like him,"

I smile down at my little brother, although I don't want to give him too much hope, "Just like him," I repeat.

Just then, the door swings open and Scott is standing in the opening. His black hair is messy, like he's run his hands through it in aggravation a thousand times. His dark eyes are much calmer than I expected, full of pain and sorrow, but still calm as they search my face. He blinks at me and I know instantly that he needs to speak to me alone.

Lip trembling, I look down at Franklin again, "Promise me you'll be strong while I'm gone," I tell him, "Be happy and be strong, alright? I love you, Franklin," I murmur, wrapping him in my arms one last time.

Franklin seems to understand Scott, too, because he just squeezes me tight and whispers, "I promise,"

Then, after I hug Sonia and tell her thank you, the two of them head toward the door. Scott ruffles Franklin's hair in a brotherly way as he passes and I feel a lump forming in my throat. As the door closes behind them and my baby brother looks over his shoulder one last time, the tears finally spill.

Scott rushes forward immediately and pulls me into his arms. Without a word, he presses his lips to mine in a passionate kiss that makes my skin tingle, even as salty tears pour down my face and between our lips.

"You don't deserve this," he breathes when we part, "You don't," he repeats.

I look up at him, blinking rapidly to clear my eyes, "I'll be okay," I tell him, though I'm not sure if I can even believe myself.

Scott shakes his head as his hand finds mine and wraps around our engagement ring, "I won't be," he whispers.

"You have to be," I tell him, "For Franklin," I add, squeezing his hand.

He meets my eyes carefully and there is a long silence. I find myself noticing more about him than I ever have before; the way his eye brows crease when he's thinking, the way his eyes are so dark that they appear black, and the way his jaw clenches right before he speaks. Maybe it's because I'm afraid it's one of the last times I'll get to be with him.

"I'm going to fight with you every step of the way," he says finally, voice determined, "I'm going to train you and tell you everything there is to tell. I'm going to get you more sponsers than anyone else, I can promise you that. I'll never give up on you, Paisley, just know that,"

"I know," I whisper.

And with that, a Peacekeeper opens the door and calls, "Time's up," Somehow these words are the worst of them all, like the Peacekeeper is trying to tell me that I have no chance: time is up.

Since Scott is a mentor, he doesn't have to leave like other visitor, and that is a comforting thought. I won't be alone through this. I have an advantage.

Scott and I walk out of the room side by side and follow the Peacekeepers down the hall and into the Justice Building's main foyer. It's a room with high ceilings, elegant pillars, and many large windows that allow light to stream over the various decorations and silk furniture. On one sleek, silver couch in particular sits a boy who looks rather out of place, with his feet kicked up on a polished wood table. He's my District partner.

As soon as he sees us coming, he smirks and shakes his shaggy black hair out of his eyes to get a better look, "Hey," he calls, obviously delighted to be speaking to someone.

I manage a small smile as we approach him, but it dissapears pretty quickly. I keep picturing Franklin's teary eyes and I just want to hold him and tell him that everything will be alright.

The boy turns his attention to Scott, "You're our mentor, huh?" he asks, and then continues without waiting for an answer, "I remember watching you...three years ago, was it? Yep, I think that was it,"

Scott nods once and I can tell he's thinking the same thing as me. How was this kid in such high spirits after being reaped?

"I'm Scott," he replies simply.

"And I'm Paisley," I add quickly. It was probably best to make friends with as many people as possible, especially my own District partner.

"I'm Axel," he says, lowering his feet from the table and leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. He's still grinning at us and I feel a sudden jolt of guilt.

Scott is going to be focusing all of his attention and training on me. He's not going to want to help this poor kid at all because that would only hurt my chances of winning. Basically, I was putting this boy at a disadvantage already. I was contributing to his almost inevitable death.

* * *

**So what do you think of these two? I tried to get a lot of their background in, so hopefully you got a feel for them. Also, sorry about the semi long wait for this chapter. Hopefully I can stick to a chapter a week schedule until exams are over, then I should be faster. Anyways, review my friends! Next chapter will be Train Rides with District 7.**


End file.
